


One Year More

by ReveEnsoleille



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (unfortunately), Angst, But Not Too Gay, Gay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, John is sad, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, like he always is, oh god he has airpods on, oh no he can't hear us, please john go to therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReveEnsoleille/pseuds/ReveEnsoleille
Summary: "The truth is, John had hit bottom. He couldn't sleep at night, not without taking multiple pills that made him feel drowsy afterwards and didn't let him do anything. It had been days since he had last left the house. Lafayette had to bring food for him and his turtle, because he'd started to worry John was starving to death."John decides to take a walk on his birthday and ends up choosing to end it all. There's just one thing—or rather, one person—that might make him change his mind.
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Theodosia Prevost Burr, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	One Year More

John never understood the purpose of birthdays.

Why celebrate the fact that you've wasted yet another year of your life?

That's how he felt every time October came close. Like he'd lost everything. Well, no. He didn't have anything to win; he couldn't lose anything either either. So surviving another year or not, what did it matter? Deep down, it was all still the same.

Though, now that he thought about it...

Maybe the problem weren't birthdays. They hadn't always been so bad. There was a time, when he was little...

No.

Maybe the problem weren't birthdays.

Maybe the problem was him.

  
It was a late October afternoon. The air was starting to turn cold, and the trees were almost naked. In New York, fall was like a movie cliché. The colors that painted the city were one of the few things John liked about the season. The rest depressed him. This particular year, the view was beautiful. The leaves danced playfully with the wind, sharing a waltz before falling onto the ground.  


Ha. A waltz. John had experience with waltzes. He'd danced once with Martha in London, right around the time his father was determined in finding him a girlfriend. They dated for a while, but John didn't feel comfortable. There was nothing in that chemistry, no chemistry; nothing more than an empty space. Next year he moved back to New York to finish up his studies and he never saw her again.

He'd danced with Francis, too. It was just a couple of times, and they never lasted too long, but John felt truly happy during those times. His father had raised him to believe you couldn't feel that way with another man. But John didn't care—it seemed as if that happiness would last forever—. Or so it did until Francis texted him saying it would be for the better if they both took their separate ways.

John couldn't blame him, really. He'd reject himself too if he could.

There were two waltzes that John would never forget, and both of them involved a certain Alexander. The first time had been at a party, after having a drink too many, when a drunk Alex took him by the hand and made him spin around the room, while Hercules and Lafayette sang under the influence of alcohol. John never learned what Alexander's real intention was. Was he simply joking? Or was it his confused heart acting out loud what he didn't dare do while sober? 

"Stop, John. You know he's already made things clear." 

The second of those dances had been at a party too, but this time the person dancing with Alexander wasn't John. 

It was Eliza.

John had noticed the girl glancing at his friend. And he wasn't stupid; he'd also seen Alex do the same. When their friend Aaron thought it would be a good idea to ask the DJ for slow music (more as an excuse to invite a so-called Theodosia to the dance floor), John turned red. For a moment he thought that, maybe, he would be invited by the person he wanted to be invited by... 

He ceased smiling when he saw with who was dancing the person in question: a brunette girl, with a blue, almost turquoise, dress that matched Alexander's tie. 

"Wow", thought John for himself. "You never learn, do you? You promised you wouldn't keep your hopes up anymore, Laurens." 

  
John woke up from the trance he had entered because of few autumn leaves. Somehow, lately all of his thoughts ended up in Alexander. Why did he enjoy torturing him up so much? He would come, he would go, yes, no, he'd say he had a date with someone else (he would never mention the name, though John knew exactly who he meant), or "Let's have a night of passion filling Aaron's apartment with yellow post-its."  
(Alexander didn't exactly use the words "night of passion", but John's heart would only hear what he wanted to hear.)  


It looked like Gilbert had noticed what was going on, because he showed John support in everything. If he saw him and Alex talking together together, he made sure NO ONE (not even Hercules) interrupted the conversation, and if the occasion presented itself, he did everything he could to leave the both of them alone in a the same room. Once he almost had to judo-flip Aaron so he wouldn't get close. John pretended not to notice, but he knew what he was doing, and deep inside he loved having a friend like him.

But now, not even that friendship gave him the courage to keep going.

The truth is, John had hit bottom. He couldn't sleep at night, not without taking multiple pills that made him feel drowsy afterwards and didn't let him do anything. It had been days since he had last left the house. Lafayette had to bring food for him and his turtle, because he'd started to worry John was starving to death.

The first thing he'd see when waking up every morning was his face in the mirror, with his red eyes because of all the tears he'd been repressing, with a sad look of seeing every day what he didn't want to see. Then he'd take a look at his arms, with the cut marks John used to say were scars from when he was in the army. They weren't. His physical and mental state worsened every passing week, and Gilbert and Hercules went by his house every day to make sure he was okay. Most of the times John wouldn't even let them in, but even that would bring some kind of comfort to his friends: it meant he was still alive. 

That day Hercules went to John's apartment, and, after not hearing the usual "You better go right now if you don't want Anthony to bite your fingers off!" (which, as crazy as it may sound, was a real threat: that turtle could be quite the predator if it wanted to), he used the copy of keys Lafayette had given to him (Hercules didn't know where they had come from, but something told him John didn't approve) and went into the living room. There was no trace of John. Fearing for the worse, Hercules scanned the entire apartment looking for anything that would confirm what he was thinking, and when he didn't find any rope, arsenic, gun, or anything else that could be lethal, he left. Uneasy, but he left. 

  
It was the first time that John went out in two weeks. He'd decided he would take a walk on his birthday, because people used to say "the older, the wiser", and was in desperate need of some wisdom.  


"Your year has been pretty bad", he thought while walking nowhere in particular. He had the custom to say "you" when talking to himself, instead of "me". He generally asked people to call him by his last name, Laurens. It made him feel like a more serious person. Besides, his father would probably enjoy that more. "John isn't quite as respectable a name as Laurens is", he used to tell him. His close family, which had become just his father as years went by, called him "Jack" or "Jackie". That was as much sign of affection as Henry Laurens could ever show. There was... there was only one more person who knew about the nickname.

"Your year has been horrible", John continued. "Your year has been horrible, and I don't know if it would be worth it to have another equally horrible year. Are you sure you want to keep going? Because, y'know, there's a gun at home, and if you can't find any other way out...

You don't have to go through the same thing this year. Your time's running out, you haven't done anything of what you promised you'd do, and your heart is feeling things again. You know how it always ends. Why do you torture yourself, John?" With that last sentence, he kicked a bunch of leaves lying on the floor.

"That's your problem, Laurens, you feel too much. You said you wouldn't anymore, that you were going to freeze your feelings control center, and look at you now, hurting over someone you don't deserve. You don't deserve him! How could he ever be with someone like you? Have you gone crazy? You studied in Europe, God damnit! You should be smart enough to notice that HE'S. NOT. INTERESTED!"

Tears started streaming down his face. John dried them quickly with his sleeve, but it didn't do much effect.

"Think, Laurens. Do you have any reason to live for right now? You've used the excuse that you can't leave Anthony alone, but how much of that is actually true? You know full well that if something were to ever happen to you Laff would take care of him. Your father never calls, everything you loved is gone... why do you keep lying to yourself?

You're turning 27. It's up to you, Laurens. You can go on with the suffering like you've done for the last ten years, or you can rest once and and for all. Maybe you should...

Yeah, maybe I should..."

He kept walking until arriving to the park. He sat on a bench, where he could perfectly see all of the happy couples there. There was a guy sitting next to a young, dark-skinned girl, with her black hair tied in African braids. Hold up... was that Aaron?

John tried to hide his face under the hood of his jacket, but it was too late. His friend noticed his presence and approached him to say hello.

"Ah, John! What brings you here?", he asked, with a smile.

"Oh, hi Aaron. Not much, just... walking around the neighborhood. Actually, I was headed home, ehh..."

He avoided saying that it was his birthday. He wanted the rest of the world to think it was just a nice, normal October 28.

"Wouldn't you like to come have lunch with Theo and I? We were just going over there."

"You're so kind, but really, I have to go back home. Anthony is waiting for his food, and I wouldn't like to keep him waiting." He lied. That goddamn turtle had already eaten. Simply put, he wasn't in the mood to visit Aaron and his girlfriend right now. He didn't have anything against Theodosia, on the contrary, she was an absolutely charming girl, but she seemed so happy with Aaron... and that hurt him. He hated himself for getting hurt over someone else being happy. Well, he hated himself anyways, but that was one of the reasons why.

"Well, then I guess we'll see you when we see you, okay? Say hi to Alexander from our part!"

Crap. There it was, the poisoned name.

He faked a smile.

"Yes, I will, Aaron."

"And also to Eliza, if you can", said Theodosia.

And there was the other one. There was the name of the other person he couldn't help but hate, not because she'd done anything wrong to him, but because she'd won the heart of someone John cared deeply about.

"Oh, of course, her too, Theo. Enjoy your lunch!"

He said goodbye one last and walked his way towards his apartment.

  
He had made a decision. He was going to do it.  


Not with a gun. No, he'd suffered enough, he didn't want to feel any more pain. 

He'd just take the pills that were stored in the top part of his closet, and...

In the elevator, he started thinking about the farewell letter he'd write, and to who. He thought Gilbert deserved one. Maybe one for Hercules, too. And for his father? Perhaps it would be better if he just asked Laff to tell him. And...

For Alex? Should he write one?

Would he find the words?

Ugh, to hell with it. He'd just write whatever he wanted, and if Alex felt guilt over it, good. 

Once in his apartment, he cleaned and organized everything. It would be the last time he'd be over there (or anywhere for that matter), so the least he could do was clean up the room.  
He wrote the letters; he ended up not making any for Alex. There was, however, a section in the bottom of Laff's letter where John had written things he wanted him to tell Alex in case he ever saw him in the street. "It might hurt more if I never said goodbye", John thought.

He took Anthony's terrarium out of the garden and placed it on the kitchen table, next to a note that said to please take care of him. He was heading to his room to get the pills he was going to take when someone knocked on the door. 

"Ugh, what now?" John complained. He hoped it wasn't Hercules, or Gilbert, otherwise it would be more painful for him to do what he was about to do. Finally, after a few more knows, he opened the door:

"What's going—"

He wasn't able to finish the sentence. In front of him was standing a guy a little smaller than him, with long hair and brown eyes. And he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

There it was.

There was the reason John was still alive.

There was the reason why he hadn't done it before.

"Happy birthday, Jackie", said Alexander.

**Author's Note:**

> yes the turtle's name is anthony yes it's after anthony ramos no i will not be taking any further questions


End file.
